


Extraction

by circlenowsquared (csquared225)



Series: Codas to Agents of SHIELD [7]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentions of Natasha Romanov - Freeform, Pheels, Strike Team Delta, Tahiti is a Magical Place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csquared225/pseuds/circlenowsquared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Romanoff and Barton never get an extraction.”<br/>“They know that going in!”</p><p>Phil reminisces on ops with Strike Team Delta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extraction

**Author's Note:**

> I know it was said that Clint and Nat always went in without an extraction, but I figured Phil would have made exceptions for them when they really needed it. Like Budapest, for example. Title refers to this and to the attempted extraction of information Coulson attempts at the end of the episode.

When Clint walked into his lover’s office in the SHIELD building (hidden away from everyone else on a floor only open to Level Sevens, something the archer was still irked about), he immediately noticed something was up. Phil was going through his old arrows. Clint used to collect them, and then noticed that when he went down to pick them up, they'd be gone. Phil finally admitted where they were when they got together, and Clint had never asked for them back.

 

“You only take that stuff off when you’re thinking about the past,” he observed, and narrowed his eyes at his partner. His eyesight was good for more than just seeing details in objects and buildings and things, it was good for seeing when a person wasn’t feeling right, especially Phil. “And that usually only happens when something bad happened. What went wrong?”

 

“They didn’t sanction an extraction for my team,” he sighed, and waved a hand when Clint went to open his mouth. His former agent (professionally only, Clint had made it clear how much he belonged to Phil) came closer, and grinned when Phil let him tug him onto the sofa. It wasn’t as good as the old one, but it was still comfy as hell. He continued talking as Clint found a comfortable position. The archer was as fussy about it as when he was picking out a nest and getting into position for an op. “I know, you and Natasha never need them, but despite them being Level Seven with the exception of Skye, Fitzsimmons are hardly field trained, Skye isn’t competent with self-defense, and Ward isn’t exceptionally creative with extraction plans. And Melinda, despite what she’d say if I told her this, can’t do it all alone.”

 

“They’ve got you though,” Clint finally managed to get in a word edgewise, raising an eyebrow. “And I know you and May can’t do it all by yourselves either, but they’ll get better, right? You’re good at fostering talent. You’ll whip them into shape.”

Phil shook his head, slightly amazed as always at Clint’s faith in him.

 

“I admit, it was reassuring to know you and Natasha could always handle yourselves. Even if it didn’t feel right leaving you both without backup,” he confessed.

 

“I always knew if I couldn’t handle it, you’d come for me,” he admitted softly. “‘Trust the system,’ until the safety one of your own is threatened by it.”

 

Phil simply lifted and dropped his shoulders, expression unchanged.

 

“You’re more important than the system.”

 

Clint cracked a smile, nuzzling into his neck.

 

“Knew you loved me the first time you told me that,” he admitted, gazing up at him with soft green eyes. “Didn’t want to believe it for a while, but it was the only thing that made sense. Agent Coulson always obeyed the system. ‘Cept for little old me.”

 

“Except for you,” his older lover agreed warmly, carding a hand through his hair. He chuckled when Clint purred and arched into the touch like a cat rather than the hawk he claimed to be. (He could get really into it, too, building nests and saying bizarre things like, “Caw, caw, motherfucker!” and then laughing when Phil didn’t get the reference. Now he knew how Rogers must still feel. He also had yet to look that one up...)

 

Voice lazy and fuzzy to begin with, it was clear when Clint got serious as he spoke.

 

“Much as I love talkin’ about me…” Phil snorted. Clint hated talking about himself. He got flipped the bird and quieted obediently. “You were at the Hub and stuff. Learn anything else about what happened? With Tahiti and everything?”

 

“It’s a...magical place.” He huffed, shaking his head. “Or so I keep saying.” He looked back at his lover. “The memories of being there...they’re so fuzzy. It’s more like a dream than a real memory.” The look in his eyes was one Clint hated seeing and would never get used to; helplessness. “I tried to look into my condition. I’m a Level Eight, and I’m apparently not authorized to look into my own recovery. Fury is...is hiding something from me.” It was a hard blow, his oldest friend shutting him out like this. Clint squeezed his shoulder, eyes flinty and determined.

 

“We’re going to figure this out, Phil. You’ve gotta let Tony look into this, I know you’re not gonna let your hacker do it.”

 

Clint was right about that; Skye had rooted around in the SHIELD mainframe enough for a while. But he couldn’t risk getting Stark tangled up in this. The man was a blabbermouth, for one thing, not counting Afghanistan and the palladium poisoning. Fury was already pissed about the BUS reconstruction, if he found out he’d told Tony Stark…

 

And he did care about Stark, whether he’d admit it or not. He wasn’t going to risk him getting in trouble with SHIELD or the WSC. Not that he couldn’t hold his own, but he didn’t want him to have to do that. Not yet.

 

“Not yet,” he affirmed, holding up a finger when Clint went to object; the archer settled with an amused expression.

 

“Finger of Doom.”

 

“Clint.”

 

He got a shit-eating grin in response. He rolled his eyes.

 

“I’m never taken seriously anymore,” he lamented, and got a pat on the arm.

 

“When it really counts, you do,” his archer promised, but was still grinning, so he swatted him. His expression turned serious, and Phil accepted the brief but meaningful kiss pressed to his lips. “Hey, remember what I said. Whatever the results are, I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.” He returned, and shook his head when Clint wriggled hopefully against him.

 

“No sex?”’

 

“No sex. Whatever they did to me, I’m still an old man and I’m tired.”

 

“Puhlease, you’re still as spry as ever.” He relented when Phil raised an eyebrow. “Fiiine. But I demand more cuddling as compensation.”

 

“Granted.”

 

**The End**

 


End file.
